


MVMT

by justlikesomuch



Series: Spying On Whales [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Honeymoon, M/M, Polyamory, Since I don't want to rope innocent bystanders into my porn, Spies & Secret Agents, Technically Tommy/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikesomuch/pseuds/justlikesomuch
Summary: Tommy makes a new friend on his honeymoon.





	MVMT

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely fictional and imaginary. All similarities to strangers mentioned in ads are for inspiration purposes only. Thank you to [Molly](http://buttshapedpillow.tumblr.com/)  
> for the beta, and to my fellow boatshoefuckers for their descriptions of Tommy, which I incorporated nearly verbatim.

“Well, that’s our cue,” says Katya, rising to her feet and offering a hand to Hanna. “Have a nice time without us, boys.” She turns to wink at Alexei and Tommy and loops a tanned arm around Hanna’s waist. She’s already acting like Hanna’s best friend after a chance half hour of small talk. Alexei watches them cross the hotel lobby and join a group of women gathering near the entrance.

He leans back in his chair and considers the man sitting across from him. Tommy smiles at him. It’s a little awkward to be suddenly alone together without Hanna and Katya. They had been keeping the conversation flowing easily. Without them, Alexei’s not sure how to proceed.

"I uh, I like your watch, man," Tommy says, leaning forward for a closer look.

"Thanks, pal," says Alexei, and immediately second-guesses his word choice. Is ‘pal’ right in this situation? He’s still getting used to the language, although his accent is impeccable. Katya is better with these kind of details.

He still thinks of her as Katya, although he’s trying to memorize their assumed identities. He likes the names she assigned to them for this mission, a matched pair of bored-sounding sibilants. Those names perfectly evoke the privileged American newlyweds Katya and Alexei are pretending to be.

This is his first job assisting Katya, and he feels slightly unmoored by her absence. She has ostensibly joined a group of hotel guests, including Hanna, for a guided tour of the local shopping districts. At some point, she will break off from the group and meet up with the contact. He wonders if befriending Hanna has complicated the plan. Probably not. Katya doesn’t make mistakes.

Alexei’s thoughts are interrupted by Tommy’s hand on his arm, turning his wrist to examine the watch. His skin tingles where Tommy’s fingers press into it, warm and solid.

"Movement," he offers, sounding a little strangled to his own ears. Tommy looks up at him, his face distractingly close now. "It's a watch company. That's where I got it. The watch."

Tommy grins. Fuck, he's cute, Alexei notes. This is the last thing he needs right now, when he’s trying to focus on the work, trying to not screw up.

“Style shouldn’t break the bank,” says Tommy, breaking contact to sip his iced tea.

That’s oddly specific, thinks Alexei, leaning back to get a better look at his new friend. Tommy’s own watch looks like an heirloom, a symbol of a certain sort of well-settled American masculinity.

“Are you in advertising, then?” Alexei asks, his tone even.

“No, I work in . . . media. Political media,” Tommy replies. Interesting. “How about yourself?”

“Finance,” says Alexei. He has details prepared, but Tommy doesn’t ask.

They sit in friendly silence for a while. Tommy starts to reach for the hardcover resting next to his room key on the glass coffee table, then seems to think better of it. Alexei remembers listening to a public radio interview with the book’s author; he could chat about it with Tommy if he gets desperate to keep the conversation going..

If he gets desperate. Katya left him with work to do—he’s supposed to be transcribing yesterday’s recordings and researching the contacts for the Tuesday meeting. Instead, he’s wondering how to spell Tommy’s last name so he can run his background at the first opportunity.

“Does it bother you,” Alexei says, “That your wife left you behind for the day? During your honeymoon?”

Tommy meets his gaze. He smiles. “No, it’s, we like to do . . . separate activities.” He watches Alexei’s face, silently asking him to follow the subtext.

“You have,” Alexei searches for the word. He lowers his voice slightly. “An understanding?”

Tommy swallows. Alexei notices the strong line of his neck. “You know what I mean?”

“Sure,” Alexei smiles. “It’s the same with us.”

Tommy cracks a grin. “How about that,” he says. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds,” Alexei echoes, holding eye contact. He can still feel Tommy’s gentle touch on his wrist. Every part of him feels attuned to this handsome stranger, anticipating, waiting for what will happen next. It reminds him of his favorite parts of the work, the parts that involve a careful dance of influence and persuasion. The parts that don’t involve transcribing muffled conversations and encrypting progress reports.

“I’m going to get a cocktail,” says Tommy, tipping his head toward the bar. “You want something?”

“It’s not even midday,” says Alexei. That was wrong. He should have said noon. Maybe Tommy will take it for a regionalism. Americans are surprisingly credulous.

If it sounds odd to Tommy, he doesn’t let on, doesn’t give Alexei the “where are you from” he used to hear from Americans when he was just starting his training. He has plausible responses now—a European parent, a youth spent in foreign boarding schools. But it still throws him a little to know he’s not getting it perfect.

Tommy just grins at him, boyish and predatory in a way that gives Alexei a little thrill. “We’re on vacation, dude. There are no rules.”

“In that case, I’ll take whatever you bring me,” says Alexei, cocking his head slightly. Tommy just raises his eyebrows and conscientiously gathers their emptied iced tea glasses, taking them with him to the bar.

As soon as Tommy’s back is turned, Alexei takes his phone out. Vetour? Veetor? Vietor. Obama administration. Hmm. Founded a media company with his handsome friends, hosts a podcast. Married last week. He seems pretty safe, if massively connected. Alexei wonders if he can pitch this to Katya as research, somehow.

He finds Hanna’s maiden name and searches them together. He turns up a highly conventional wedding registry, and a baffling array of erotic fantasy writing about Tommy. Password protected. He rolls his eyes and quickly finds his way into the site. Are people writing fanfiction about podcast hosts now? Alexei can’t claim to know.

Tommy returns just then, cutting Alexei’s research short. He hands Alexei a cocktail garnished with glistening lychees, brushing their fingers together more than is strictly necessary. “Thanks, buddy,” he says, and takes a sip. Buddy sounds right. He’s getting better at this.

The drink is strong, its sweetness masking a double shot of rum. He can’t afford to finish it; he needs to keep control of himself as much as possible. When he reports to Katya, he will leave out the part about Tommy having access to their drinks out of Alexei’s sight.

“Spying On Whales,” Alexei reads off the cover of Tommy’s book. “Are you a spy, Tommy Vietor?”

“I’m working on it,” says Tommy, his voice low. “I saw some dolphin spouts from our balcony this morning. We have a great ocean view.”

“I’d like to see that,” says Alexei, smiling back with what he hopes is clear intent.

“I imagine you would,” says Tommy. He finishes his drink in a one swallow and stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “How about now?”

“Perfect,” says Alexei, and follows him to the elevator bank.

***

Tommy wasn’t lying. The view is truly beautiful, much better than the one from Alexei’s room. They lean over the balcony and watch the ocean side-by-side, just barely pressing into each other.

Tommy turns and nuzzles against Alexei’s close-cropped hair. He offers a prayer of thanks that he dyed his hair for this job instead of going with a hairpiece. “What are you into?” Tommy murmurs, rumbling close to Alexei’s ear, sending a frisson straight to his cock. “What do you like?”

Fuck me, thinks Alexei, but doesn't say it out loud. It seems like a big ask for a spontaneous hookup with a fellow honeymooner. What do straight-presenting Americans do in situations like this?

“Can I blow you?” he asks.

Tommy nods with an endearing level of enthusiasm. “I want to kiss you,” he says in a near-whisper.

Alexei nods back to the hotel room and takes Tommy’s hand. Once they’re inside, Tommy looks down at him with hunger and pulls him into a kiss, his hands searching over Alexei’s back. He’s a good kisser, filthy and promising right away, He sucks on Alexei’s lower lip, biting it softly. Alexei sighs and lets Tommy walk him over to the bed.

Tommy flops back onto the bedspread, pulling Alexei up on top of him. Alexei kisses him deep and open-mouthed, rolling his hips and drawing a groan from Tommy. He slides down between Tommy’s spread legs, running his hands up under his linen shorts. He loves the feel of the soft hairs under his hands, the little gasps Tommy makes as Alexei smooths them backwards. He’s so responsive. Alexei sucks a kiss into his muscular thigh, works Tommy’s fly open.

As he reaches for Tommy’s cock, he feels a hand in his hair. “Wait.”

He looks up at Tommy for direction, and Tommy groans. “God, you look so good down there, but—I want, I want to see you. Will you undress, uh,” he swallows, “For me?”

Alexei grins and slides up off the bed. He’s good at this part. He steps out of his flip-flops, pulls off his polo, and tosses it on the carpet. He lowers his shorts and his briefs, eyes cast down. He can feel Tommy’s gaze on him like a spotlight, heating his skin and making him blush. He looks up at Tommy and follows his eyes to Alexei’s thickening cock, rosy and uncut. Americans love that, he thinks.

“You look incredible,” says Tommy. He’s propped up on his elbows, watching him, taking in Alexei’s body with an intent expression.

Alexei leans over him, bracketing him. “Your turn,” he says, flopping onto the bed next to him.

Tommy stands and strips. He’s far more workmanlike about it than Alexei, less practiced in performing for an appreciative audience.

And what a shame that is, Alexei thinks, because Tommy’s body is beautiful. He somehow seems bigger out of his clothes than in them, as though his worn tee and shorts had been a disguise. He isn't built like someone who sits a a studio and talks for a living. He looks powerful—broad-shouldered, broad everywhere except his long, fine legs. His thick chest is dotted with freckles, and his arms look like they were made for holding a man down.

And his cock, well. Somehow, Alexei was not expecting it to be that big. His mouth feels dry, which is the exact opposite of what the situation, and that massive cock, demands.

Tommy laughs softly at his appreciative expression and joins him on the bed. He throws off the blankets and settles on top of Alexei, covering him with his warm, solid body. His shoulders look even better from this angle. He leans down and kisses him, slow and lingering, dragging his tongue against Alexei’s in a way that makes him feel crazy, makes him want everything from Tommy at the same time.

He reaches for Tommy’s hips and pulls them up toward his face. Tommy takes the hint and knee-walks up the bed until he is straddling Alexei’s shoulders, gripping his cock so that it hovers just out of reach of Alexei’s mouth.

The veins in Tommy’s arm pop as he strokes his cock, and Alexei briefly wonders what those arms would look like choking someone, just a bit. He sets that thought aside and settles back into the moment, breathing in the smell of Tommy’s warm skin. He opens his mouth for Tommy, taking the thick head into his mouth and running the tip of his tongue along the underside of Tommy’s cock.

Tommy keeps stroking himself, gently rocking his hips toward Alexei’s face. He’s just slightly too far away to get a good suction going, and the tip keeps popping out of his mouth and brushing against his lips, making him chase it with his tongue. It makes him desperate, hungry with the desire to pull Tommy into him. His own narrow hips buck up against nothing, seeking friction.

“Tommy—” he starts, and then moans as Tommy thrusts between his lips, a little deeper than before. He really wants Tommy to fuck him.

“I really want you to fuck me.”

Tommy stills his hips, his eyes wide. He moves to settle on his side next to Alexei, leaning his head on his arm.

“Fuck yes.” He kisses Alexei hard, pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure?”

Alexei laughs at his chivalry. “I was sure as soon as you sat across from me in the lobby, holding hands with your wife.”

Tommy laughs and flushes bright red. He quickly kisses Alexei’s shoulder. “Me too,” he says quietly against Alexei’s sweaty neck.

They lie together for a few moments, and then Tommy sighs and says, “We need stuff, then,” and disappears into the bathroom.

***

Tommy works him open carefully. Too carefully, Alexei thinks, pushing impatiently against Tommy’s hand. His fingers are so thick. That’s what Alexei had noticed first about him this morning, while Tommy was busy checking out his watch. Those fingers look like they were created for this purpose, he’d thought. But then again, that was before he saw Tommy’s cock.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, come on.” He hears his accent start to slip and slur in his desperation, and he hopes Tommy’s too far gone to notice. Most guys he goes to bed with don’t notice.

Tommy just laughs and kisses him, gently pulling his fingers away as Alexei breathes out a moan. He cups Alexei’s jaw and says, “Ride me?”

He sounds so hopeful that it makes Alexei want to laugh. But he doesn’t laugh. He just nods and pushes Tommy slowly against the wall of pillows propped against the headboard. He slicks them both up, positions himself over Tommy’s cock and slowly, slowly works his way down, breathing deep. It takes time, naturally, but soon he’s settled into Tommy’s lap.

It’s more than Alexei’s used to, more than he’s ever had. But he’s so loose and open now, so relaxed and hungry for Tommy that he just feels full, overwhelmed. Far more overwhelmed than he should be during a mission, he thinks. He shakes his head and pushes off that thought in favor of looking down at Tommy’s perfect face, the strange pale brows over his gently shut eyes, his sharp cheekbones and radiant skin.

And then, suddenly, Tommy is calling to him by his assumed name, and reaching for his cock, and thrusting up into him with surprising power. And Alexei doesn’t think about anything else for a long, long time.

***

Later, after Katya and Hanna have returned to the hotel, arms weighted down with the day’s purchases, the four of them have dinner together. They exchange contact information and plan to meet up when Tommy and Hanna are in New York next month. But of course, they will never see each other again.

After the job is finished, Alexei starts listening to Tommy’s podcasts. He’s surprised to hear Tommy mention him and Katya by their cover names.

The co-host, the one who’s always flirting with Tommy and doing a bad Russian accent, is appalled that Tommy made friends on his honeymoon. He likes their names, though.

“Yeah,” he tells Tommy, “I think they’re spies.”

 

  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. _Spying On Whales_ is a real book on the bestsellers lists at the time of Tommy's honeymoon, and is probably the "book about whales" he mentioned on the pod.
> 
> 2\. Lychees are known as a male aphrodisiac.


End file.
